Opportunities Lost
by ncis.is.the.best
Summary: Post Aliyah. Just an angsty one-shot in which Tony reflects on his miserable track record with women. TIVA-ish.


Disclaimer: Eh. you know the drill.

Post Aliyah. Just an angsty one-shot in which Tony reflects on his miserable track record with women. TIVA-ish.

Enjoy and review!

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Tony DiNozzo had never really been all that lucky with women. Sure, he _got_ lucky with them, but rarely did any of his relationships escalate beyond a casual screw. And for the most part, he had to admit, that that was the way he'd liked it. That was then.

He'd hated the clinginess, the warning signs of impending commitment. He didn't like the possessiveness, and a hot girl only had to so much as say the word 'parents' and he was out the door. It was like a disease, or an allergic reaction. It was simple; he and relationships simply did not mix.

--

The day he'd met Ziva David he'd seen it for what it was; a challenge. She was hot, seductive, and clearly enjoyed leading him on. He, in turn, enjoyed being led on. It was a match made in heaven, chemistry at its best. And the best thing was that she never once uttered the word 'commitment'. Nor did she ever allude to wanting such things. She simply enjoyed toying with him. He'd thought that being played with like that and never getting any action would have been an issue, but it just wasn't. Sure, if she'd come to him asking for sex he would've happily obliged, but in the beginning he was just enjoying the thrill of the chase.

--

She'd started coming around to his place, and him to hers. But no, it was nothing like a relationship. No, eating Chinese together on a work night was not unacceptable. It certainly didn't qualify as a relationship. They were just doing friends stuff, partner stuff. After all, if you put your life in someone's hands everyday you had to have some degree of familiarity with them. And they'd sit together on the couch, her leaning casually against his body, radiating warmth as they watched movies. He'd correct her idioms and explain parts of films in great detail until she threatened to kill him with the closest object she could reach. He'd shut his mouth, but continue to smirk softly, occasionally dropping a remark to rile her up. Of course, she'd take it in good stead, delivering another death threat they both knew she'd never dream of executing.

At some point during the night he'd drape an arm around her shoulders and pull her close, an action she never objected to. Still, it wasn't a relationship. No. It was just more comfortable that way. At least that's what he told himself.

--

Then, over time, there was a shift in her behaviour. She stopped coming over. He didn't ask why and she didn't offer the information. It was the way they worked; rotating around one another, waiting for the other to crack first. That time, no one cracked.

She'd changed, and he wasn't willing to change with her. Her stares became less friendly, more pointed. Her comments were less suggestive, more snarky. And that was how it went on, her being an all round bitch, and him not having the slightest inkling why. He wondered why it bothered him so much, but passed it off as concern for her welfare. He always passed it off as something.

--

That's when Jeanne had come into the equation, forced him to face something he'd never even considered before. Sure, if it had been real life, and he hadn't been obligated to go on with the 'relationship' he probably would have dumped her immediately. But no. It was his job to go on, his _orders_ to continue. And that was when he realised; maybe if he got past the initial fear, the first hurdle, maybe he could begin to like the idea of a relationship. It was sad; the first real love he experienced was love he was forced into. And before he knew it, it was ripped away from him. He'd never really had a chance at all.

--

When she was gone, and the fairytale ruined, he'd turned his attention back to meaningless one night stands. Except something was different, something wrong. He'd lost his mojo. He found himself never able to seal the deal. He was doing all the wrong things, saying all the wrong lines. And he wondered more than once if perhaps he was done. He'd fucked up with Jeanne so much maybe he should just give up.

And after a while, he did.

--

Work became his life, and that was when he'd remembered Ziva again. Thinking he could rekindle their friendship, he'd gone over to her place one night, movie in one hand, pizza in the other. She'd answered the door wrapped in a robe, a man visible in the living room behind her. He'd apologized and left quickly. They didn't speak about that night again.

--

After a while, the initial awkwardness receded, but things were never quite the same as before. He'd make suggestive remarks, and she'd return them. But no, it wasn't the same. Somewhere in his emotionally screwed up mind, he decided she wanted him. That was why there was all the weirdness. And he'd stare at her and think 'look at her play all hard to get' and laugh to himself, thinking he still had a chance.

But no. It wasn't her that wanted him. He wanted her. It just took him far too long to realise it. And by the time he did, she was already making mystery calls in Hebrew. He pretended not to notice the girly laugh coming from across the squad room, the smile that didn't leave her lips even after she hung up the phone. But it always hit a little too close to home.

--

He should have been the one making her feel like that.

--

When he'd gone to her apartment and been attacked by Rivkin he couldn't quite explain the emotions he'd felt. One thing he knew was the feeling of relief as he landed four slugs in the other man's chest. He didn't know whether it was relief at having survived the battle, or relief that he had Ziva once again to himself. And that scared him.

--

When he'd seen her in the hospital, heard those words, _"Michael is dead. Tony killed him,"_ he only felt anger. He'd had no choice, right? He had to do it.

--

When he was being questioned by her father he'd acted flippant, but the remarks about Ziva had pushed a little too far. He'd felt more than satisfaction when he turned the tables on the old man.

--

When he'd sat in that plane, waiting for her to get in so they could go home, he'd been mentally making a speech, deciding to talk to her, sort things out. He'd never got that chance.

--

And as he sat at his desk two days later, unaware of anything Ziva had gone through after they left her on the tarmac in Tel Aviv, he wondered if he'd ever again get that chance.

--

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A/N: Review!


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